


so baby pull me closer (in the backseat of your limo)

by Nottodaylogic (MandaloreArtist)



Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, but it’s fade to black and written by an ace person, like two words worth of it, or maybe implied making out?, so I like to think it’s p safe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:42:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22091806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MandaloreArtist/pseuds/Nottodaylogic
Summary: Owen had only taken his first sip when Curt spoke again. “It’s pretty quiet back here for a limousine, right?”“Itisa bit out of place,” Owen acquiesced. “But what would we have fill the silence? Classical music? Passionate snogging? Card games?”“Leave it to you to suggest card—” Curt suddenly choked on his champagne.or: it’s that beloved spy classic: making out in the backseat of a limousine!
Relationships: Owen Carvour/Agent Curt Mega
Comments: 2
Kudos: 77





	so baby pull me closer (in the backseat of your limo)

**Author's Note:**

> i don’t know who first suggested limo fic but whoever it was, this is all your fault
> 
> wait i just checked it was mel 
> 
> mel this is all your fault

Owen and Curt first got together in the backseat of the limousine that had ferried them into the gates of Hell. 

Okay, that may have been slightly dramatic. However, Owen was more than willing to indulge in a small amount of drama, should the occasion arise. 

He had done theatre for several years, after all. 

At least their chariot of doom was decently comfortable. It wasn’t the first limousine Owen had been in, but they were always rather nice to be in.

The target—a representative for a rather important company, headed to a pivotal meeting—had been tranquilized as soon as the door was shut. She now lay on the floor. Owen had to kneel rather awkwardly in order to check her pulse. Curt had been posing as Owen’s bodyguard, and so hadn’t spoken, but he was muttering to himself as he searched for bugs. His sunglasses were pushed atop his hair. 

Meanwhile, Owen swapped her bracelet for a copy, which concealed a built-in tracker. State-of-the-art and untraceable, it was; the finest technology Barb had to offer. 

It had a really fiddly clasp.

It took Owen five minutes to figure out how to close it around her wrist. 

Once he had it, Owen propped her up against the corner of the car. Curt must had deemed their surroundings satisfactory. He had already gotten out the champagne glasses. 

“There.” Owen brushed off his hands, despite not needing to. There was nothing to brush. “The tracker is in place, so if our dear duchess gets kidnapped after all, we shall be the first to know.”

“Mission accomplished.” Curt leaned back and reached for a bottle. 

Owen opened his mouth to protest. 

“Before you say anything,” Curt replied without looking up from his pouring, “we are in an actual limousine. Please choose your next words carefully.”

Owen stayed silent. 

“Thought so.” Curt handed Owen one of the two glasses. Owen had only taken his first sip when Curt spoke again. “It’s pretty quiet back here for a limousine, right?”

“It _ is _ a bit out of place,” Owen acquiesced. “But what would we have fill the silence? Classical music? Passionate snogging? Card games?”

“Leave it to you to suggest card—” Curt suddenly choked on his champagne. Owen stared at Curt’s reddening face as he coughed and spluttered. His eyes were watering. 

Owen patted Curt on the back until he regained the ability to breathe.

“Thanks.”

In favor of acknowledgement, Owen simply raised an eyebrow. “Goodness gracious, Curt. You do know I was only joking, don’t you?”

“Yeah, well, _ now _I do.” Curt’s brows furrowed in a heatless glare. 

“Well. It’s all fine, I suppose.” He picked his champagne glass back up. “No need to get all flustered about it. We can simply, oh, play a few rounds of rummy if you wish.”

“Don’t like rummy.” 

“Canasta?”

“Well, er.” Curt shuffled his feet, and something in Owen’s chest clenched in warning. “Now that you mentioned it. Um.”

“Spit it out, old boy. Not getting any younger, are we?”

“It _ would _be the most entertaining way to spend a practically-free limo ride, wouldn’t it?” Curt’s ears were practically aflame with embarrassment, but his expression was calm enough. “And what a story we’d have to tell.”

“Who could we even share it with?” Owen asked, brows furrowed. His thoughts had started whirring at a hundred fifty miles an hour, and it was all he could do to keep a reasonably-calm facade.

“Er. Each other? And the bottom of a bottle, maybe.” Curt groaned and tipped the rest of the champagne into his mouth, downing it in one. “Ugh, forget I even said anything. You Brits.”

“Bloody Americans,” Owen shot back breathlessly. Curt rolled his eyes and started refilling his glass. “You and your vices. Kill you someday, they will, and I won’t so much as blink.”

“Yeah, blink away your tears.”

“Come off it, you know I would have arranged a stop at some bar had I known you were this desperate, old boy.”

“Oh, shut up.” Curt rolled his eyes, although his ears were even more red than before. “What was I supposed to think, huh?”

“There are a million other things we could do to cause noise, Curt.” There was an edge to his voice that he couldn’t quite keep down.

Curt matched it. “Yeah, but are any of them any _ fun _?”

_ This is a horrible idea. It’s utterly bonkers. _

The bubbly liquid had almost begun to overflow when Owen finally relented. “Oh, what the hell?”

Curt abruptly stopped pouring. A splash of champagne soaked the corner of the target's dress. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, get over here.” Owen grabbed ahold of Curt’s black tie and pulled him in. Curt didn’t stop staring as Owen started to undo it. “We have about an hour left in here. Try to sound… oh, I don’t know, _ blonde.” _

Curt caught on quickly. “I thought you liked my hair,” he breathed, reaching for the buttons of Owen’s blazer. 

“It’s alright, but you know what I mean.” 

Curt let out an affirmative noise. Owen leaned forward to capture Curt’s lips on his own, but to his surprise, he moved back

“Could you… not kiss me? Not on the lips, anyway.”

“Of course,” Owen said through the twinge of disappointment. He soothed it by aiming for his neck instead.

A blazer fell to the floor, followed by another, both falling on top of the target.

**Author's Note:**

> i have so many regrets.
> 
> i’m also on tumblr at nottodaylogic, please don’t ask me why i did this, it was for the Memes.


End file.
